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by sheafrotherdon



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode Tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-13
Updated: 2007-04-13
Packaged: 2017-10-11 23:29:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McKay has a distinctive way of dealing with relief.  Luckily, so does Sheppard. ~500 words</p>
            </blockquote>





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"Oh, god," Rodney says, worrying the fingers of his hands together. "Do you realize how close we came to dying? _Again_? We're always almost dying and that was really, _really_ close and wow, just wow, I mean as kicking the bucket scenarios go that was – we really almost bought it, almost got _vaporized_ and – "

John paces the length of the mess hall supply room, rubbing his fingers over his chin. His jaw's rough with stubble, and he's trying to figure out if Replicators shower, or if that's the sort of non-essential system the little bastards closed down.

" – and the city – we almost lost her, again, vaporized _her_ as well as us, and why am I calling her a her? I mean that's a ridiculous trait in humans, the urge to gender-identify inanimate objects, although Atlantis isn't really inanimate, and I suppose I always thought she was a she because of the way she'll roll over and beg for you, but then you swing entirely the opposite direction so maybe she's a man. A big gay man given urban form with a stardrive for a – "

John wets his lips, scratches the back of his neck as he paces, wonders if his appetite's planning on coming back anytime soon. He's voluntarily shut in a small space with Rodney McKay and a host of powerbars and he ought to be able to get some use out of one of them at least.

" – but who knows if SGC will let us stay if – well, we have O'Neill on our side, at least I think we do, we saved his bacon, American, not the Canadian kind, he's not the sort to be round I don't think, you know, in bacon form and – "

John stops his pacing, turns a little, eyes Rodney who's leaning against the wall, babbling every thought he has the moment he has it. "Rodney?"

" – perhaps he'd prefer to say we saved his waffles except, no, no, that's _all_ wrong, god, I'm comparing a two-star general to a carbohydrate breakfast product and the next minute I'll be – " He swallows. "Hmmm?"

"Shut up," John says, low, and reaches to cradle Rodney's face between his hands, leans in and kisses him quiet, kisses him slow, kisses him dirty, a little rough, a little harsh, a lot needy, right up until the point where all the tension in Rodney's body dissipates and he trembles, hands fumbling clumsily against John's arms, trying to find a hold.

"Oh," Rodney manages when John pulls away. "Oh – I . . ."

John's breathing a little faster than he'd expected, and he quirks an eyebrow, the best response he has.

"Could we – maybe?" Rodney asks.

"Grateful sex?"

"Grateful, yes, yes, definitely, oh god," Rodney mumbles and kisses John with what feels like every filthy impulse he's ever hoarded beneath his skin.

It's so damn fucking good to be home.


End file.
